


soft

by hobbitual



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Morality, Filming, Infantilism, M/M, Plushophilia, Somnophilia, Stuffed Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitual/pseuds/hobbitual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>brock humps a stuffed cat and i lose control of my life word by word</p>
<p>enjoy and thank you for reading :^)</p>
    </blockquote>





	soft

**Author's Note:**

> brock humps a stuffed cat and i lose control of my life word by word
> 
> enjoy and thank you for reading :^)

Brock is sleeping through his day off in Jack's bed. It's become a habit of sorts, not really a good one, but Brock's always been fickle and prone to bad habits. Jack just goes with the ups and downs.

Jack appreciates Brock a little more when he's sleeping. For one, he yells less – but mostly, Jack can see the person Brock must have been before whatever the fuck happened to him. The ever-furrowed brow is smoothed out, his closed eyes leave his eyelashes fanned across the skin under his eyes. His lips are parted slightly, a tiny bit pursed. If Jack were a sentimental type of person, he'd say Brock looked almost angelic.

As it stands, Brock looks too young for his own good.

Jack isn't doing much of anything, just laying next to Brock. (“You're keeping me company,” Brock had mumbled, half asleep. “If I have a nightmare, wake me up. Don't fucking touch me otherwise. I'll know and I'll kick your ass.”) Jack had sighed, rolled his eyes and waited for Brock's breathing to even out. A minute after, he had poked Brock lightly between the eyes, just for good measure. Brock had scrunched his nose in his sleep and mumbled something unintelligible, covering his face with his arm. Always a restless sleeper, that had changed in the next ten minutes; Brock had moved from laying on his back to his side, facing Jack.

While studying Brock's sleeping face, Jack had entertained the thought of pushing his thumb into Brock's parted lips, make an experiment out of it and see if Brock would suck it. He gives into his urge, running the pad of his thumb over the softness of Brock's bottom lip. Brock doesn't suck it, but he does pout in his sleep at the sensation – with how Jack's thumb is pressed against his lips, it's almost like Brock is kissing it. It's a good consolation.

Jack lets up on teasing Brock, gently running his fingers through Brock's hair once and then keeping his hands to himself. He taps out a rhythm on the bedsheets, quickly grows bored of that, and pulls out his phone to mess around on the Internet for as long as it takes Brock to wake up. That's discarded quickly, too – the Internet can be unrewarding when you don't have an idea of what to look for.

Jack puts his phone away and stretches out on the bed, straightening out long legs and cracking his toes. In the middle of trying to get a crick out of his neck, he remembers something – something pretty vital, actually.

Jack gets off the bed, gently so as not to wake Brock. The movement doesn't have much of an effect on Brock – he's sleeping soundly, it seems. Jack walks over to the closet, employing the tactic of walking silently. He opens the closet, thankful for the well oiled hinges that don't creak, and crouches down to retrieve a box shoved as far back in the closet as possible. Brock makes use of the closet a lot, more than Jack by far, and three quarters of the contents belong to Brock. Most of Jack's belongings are on the floor, meaning the box of unmentionable objects isn't in any danger of being found. Jack rummages through it, pushing objects around until he finds what he's looking for.

It's a stuffed cat, grey and white with blue eyes. There's a red bow on its neck made out of lace. It's incredibly soft, causing Jack to lose a couple minutes just feeling the fur and getting lost in thoughts of his own plans. He comes out of his reverie when he hears a loud thump against the wall next to the closet. When he looks to see what caused it, Jack sees a pillow laying on the floor, thrown by Brock who's glaring at him with one eye cracked open.

“You're not supposed to go,” Brock half-whines, voice raspy from sleep.

“Sorry, pumpkin,” Jack says, quickly hiding the cat behind his back. Brock looks like he can barely keep his eyes open and he missed Jack entirely with the pillow, so Jack counts his blessings for that. “I'm comin' now.”

“Stop calling me stupid –” Brock pauses to yawn. “Names. Bring the pillow back.”

Jack retrieves the pillow and brings it back over to the bed, adding it to the group of pillows already piled there. Jack only ever needed one pillow to sleep but since Brock started sharing a bed with him, there's always at least three. “Go back to sleep, I'm not goin' anywhere.”

Brock is already asleep again by the time Jack finishes that sentence. Jack can tell it's not as deep a sleep as before he woke up when Jack left his side, but it shouldn't take long for Brock to settle into a deeper sleep.

Jack lays back down next to Brock and attempts to at least put an arm around him but doesn't get very far at all when Brock kicks him. Jack is almost impressed that Brock's statement about knowing Jack's touching him rings true – although it could just be a coincidence. “Alright, jeez,” Jack says, grateful that he'd thought ahead and hidden the stuffed cat under the blankets.

Jack waits patiently for Brock's breathing to even out again, giving it about ten minutes more so he's sure Brock is sleeping deeply enough not to notice any movement. When Brock is without a doubt sleeping soundly, Jack takes the stuffed cat out from under the blankets. He lays on his side directly parallel to Brock, close enough that he can see every detail of Brock's face but not close enough that Brock can feel his breathing. Jack brings the stuffed cat up in front of Brock's face. He sets it down on the bed between them, just taking in the image of it being so close to Brock. It looks good, almost perfect.

Jack moves the toy closer to Brock, taking one of the plush paws between his fingers and running it down the bridge of Brock's nose. The soft fur must tickle; Brock scrunches his nose again and starts to breathe like he's about to sneeze. It passes and Brock's face settles again. Jack smiles at the way Brock almost looks like a bunny (he's gotta get a bunny toy, too).

Jack strokes Brock's face with the paw of the cat plush and, funnily enough, the soft touch seems to soothe Brock into a more pleasant sleep. Brock starts to get restless again, kicking off the blankets entirely and extending his arms out like he's reaching for Jack. Jack knows better, though – he moves the cat to sit between Brock's outstretched arms and watches with a sharp-toothed grin as Brock clutches at it and brings it close to his chest, hugging it tightly. Brock huffs out a breath and shifts, moving to curl into a ball around the cat.

Jack looks down, past Brock's chest, and almost scoffs in disbelief – Brock's pajama pants have slid down, the drawstring coming untied. “Oh, this is too much,” Jack whispers to himself. Brock's penchant for buying clothes a size too big to make himself feel taller, something Jack has always found annoying and counter productive, has served to make this entire situation _that_ much better. Brock's pants are low enough that Jack can see the majority of his pubic hair, the base of his cock visible, too. Some subtle manipulations on Jack's part that Brock doesn't react to at all and Brock's cock is freed entirely from plaid flannel. It's entirely flaccid, something that will change pretty soon, Jack thinks.

When Jack looks back up at Brock cuddling the stuffed cat, he's pleased to see Brock has his face buried in the fur of the cat's back. Jack almost feels bad about ruining the perfect picture; he gently pries the cat out of Brock's arms. The resulting whine that comes out of Brock's throat is almost too pitiful – Jack bites his lip, forgetting himself in the moment. Brock looks absolutely stricken at the loss, even with his eyes closed in sleep.

“Just gonna,” Jack starts, breath catching in his throat as he moves the cat down to Brock's lower belly. “Gonna move it here, honey. It's better here, see?” Jack strokes the soft fur against Brock's stomach, smirking when Brock twitches involuntarily. Jack keeps it up, letting Brock get used to the feeling, before he lowers the toy so the fur just barely touches Brock's flaccid cock. The noise Brock makes is somewhere between a gasp and a moan and Jack isn't sure for a second that he's still asleep. He checks, peering into Brock's face for a minute, but Brock is definitely still sleeping – albeit with a confused face rather than a relaxed one. His mouth is open, wider than before. His brow is furrowed but not like it usually is; Brock isn't angry or frustrated, more perplexed.

Jack brings his attention back down to the task at hand. He repeats the motion of trailing the cat's paw down Brock's skin, this time on his cock rather than his face. Brock's hips twitch at the feeling, his cock starting to stir and harden.

“Feels good, huh?” Jack breathes, barely audible even in the quiet room. “Soft just like you. Just on the outside, not the inside.”

Jack watches as the ministrations leave Brock with an admittedly impressive erection – he usually doesn't get this hard this fast. Jack files that piece of information away in his brain.

Brock's panting now, not harshly like he normally would, but breathy – soft puffs of air, his chest heaving a bit. There's a flush to his face, going from his cheeks down his neck. Brock will say he's too tan to show much of a blush but Jack knows that's not true – knows that better than anyone.

Brock's hips are starting to move on their own accord, thrusting and seeking the softness of the fur. Jack obliges, pushing the toy more firmly against Brock's crotch. Brock makes a half-growl, half-moan noise at the contact. He's making stronger thrusts now, really starting to slide his cock against the fur. Jack inches his body closer, wanting to at least feel the heat from Brock's skin, if not touch Brock himself. He remembers, though, that Brock had told him not to touch him – and he's not. The toy doesn't count as a part of Jack.

Brock is grasping at the sheets as he fucks the toy, leaving Jack with an idea. He gently takes Brock's wrists in one hand and brings them down to grasp the toy himself. That leaves both of Jack's hands free and Brock to push the toy as hard against his cock as possible, rubbing his cock against it in quicker and more frantic motions.

Jack pulls his phone out of his pocket again, this time to open the camera app. He selects video and starts to record, angling the camera to get most of Brock's lower body in the shot. He's thankful for the idea coming into his head when it did – a few seconds after he's started filming, Brock starts to make the hottest, most desperate whines Jack has ever heard him make.

Usually, any time they fuck, Brock will make a big show out of grunting and swearing his way through it. Even after the initial stretch of preparation, when Jack knows that it feels good for Brock, Brock will pitch his voice lower or muffle his noises entirely in any available surface. This time, Brock is completely uninhibited thanks to the depth of sleep – his moaning is almost high-pitched as a girl's, _ah_ and _ugh_ noises coming more frequently. It's hotter than any porn Jack has seen, could ever dream of. Jack pans the camera up, capturing Brock's face in the video. There's sweat dotting Brock's hairline and his eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows drawn together almost like he's in pain or – Jack looks closely and yes, there are tears squeezing out from under Brock's eyelids. Tears of pleasure or shame or something else entirely, Jack isn't sure, but it's always a welcome sight.

Brock's mouth is open due to his panting and Jack can't help himself at all at this point – he pushes his thumb against Brock's bottom lip, forgoing his earlier action of rubbing at the soft flesh and pushes his thumb into Brock's parted lips, between his teeth. Brock almost immediately wraps his lips around Jack's thumb, sucking hard. It's reminiscent of the way he sucks Jack's cock, how he must have sucked however many cocks before Jack's. Jack wonders where he learned how to do it.

Brock is close to coming, the motion of his hips getting frantic with the need for release. He's humping the toy at the same time as dragging it up and down his cock. Jack is impressed, really – he knows what he's doing even while fast asleep.

“Clever boy,” Jack says, taking over for Brock and pushing his thumb in and out of Brock's mouth. He doesn't mind the drag of teeth – probably wouldn't mind it if Brock did it while sucking his cock while asleep, if it ever came to that.

A few seconds before Brock comes, he stills his motions entirely. His hips stop thrusting and he just pushes the stuffed cat hard against his cock. As the tip of his cock starts to stream, soaking the fur of the toy, he bites down hard on Jack's thumb. Jack winces at the sharp pinch of Brock's teeth but lets it happen. Brock is moaning around Jack's thumb, almost sounding like he's sobbing. It's believable that he might be – tears are seeping out from under his closed eyes, collecting on his lashes and dripping down his cheeks.

“Such a crybaby,” Jack says fondly. “Don't ever change that, okay?”

Brock doesn't respond, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm. He came enough to make the fur of the stuffed cat's back wet and matted, to the point it looks to be chafing his cock. Jack pulls his thumb out from between Brock's teeth, mouth twisting in annoyance at the dents from Brock biting him. Ending the recording on his phone, he saves the video and makes sure there's still a password needed to gain access to it. He takes the toy from Brock, ignoring the sleepy whine from the loss of contact. Jack leans over the side bed and shoves the toy underneath it, making a mental note to retrieve it later. Back on the bed and in front of Brock, Jack pulls Brock's pants up and ties the drawstring in a neat bow so they don't fall down again, lest Brock ask unneeded questions.

Jack sighs contentedly, ignoring his own straining erection for now. Ignoring Brock's earlier instructions not to touch him, he pulls Brock into his arms and cuddles him, pressing kisses to his hair. Brock only stirs a little bit, exhausted from his orgasm, only making a small whine of protest.

“You're not gonna know,” Jack mumbles into Brock's hair as he settles them both down to sleep. “You never do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ usopp!


End file.
